


Caves of Balor

by spowell Once and Future Series (SPowell)



Series: Once and Future [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Returns, M/M, Magic!Merlin, post ep. 5x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Once%20and%20Future%20Series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur passes a restless night. Merlin doesn't get over things easily.</p><p>Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC and Shine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caves of Balor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Camelot Land, challenge 3 the big one prompt: the caves of Balinor.
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments! I appreciate them so much.

The caves of Balor are dark, and Arthur can’t see Merlin, although he’s sure he’s up ahead of him somewhere. He opens his mouth to call out, needing to know that Merlin is all right, but no words will pass his lips. Arthur’s limbs move sluggishly, as though he walks through the thick waters of a marsh. Heart beating painfully hard, he tries to make out images amongst the shadows that loom over him like sentinels of doom. These caves remain cold even on the hottest days of summer, but Arthur doesn’t feel it; something isn’t right.

Arthur nestles in a crevice, back against the cold wall of the cave. In a clearing a few steps below, Merlin stands whispering with a man.

Ire burns in Arthur’s chest; the man is Brandon Davies.

Arthur's hands grips the hilt of his sword.

No, wait; it is Sir Leon. Arthur’s mouth falls open as he watches Sir Leon take Merlin by the hand, but then his face becomes Davies’ again as he looks tenderly at Merlin, bringing Merlin’s fingers to his lips.

Arthur stiffens angrily but stills his urge to react. He looks down at his own chest, chain mail just visible in the dim light, and then back up at Merlin, who wears jeans and the Beatles T-shirt he had on yesterday. Something is off…

Then all thoughts are lost as Arthur watches Davies lean in and press a kiss to Merlin’s lips, Merlin meeting him greedily. Suddenly, the two of them are unclothed, hands all over the other, grappling, passionate. The sight of Davies large hands on the pert, pale globes of Merlin's arse spurs Arthur into action.

All at once Arthur is consumed with rage mixed with a sense of loss so deep it’s physically painful, and he cries out, surging forward from his hiding place, drawing his sword. With a sure swiftness born of years of practice, he swings it over his head in a wide arch toward the vulnerable back of Davies’ neck. Somewhere in the depths of his mind Arthur realizes the lack of weight and strain on his muscles and knows he's dreaming, but it doesn't diminish the anguish of jealousy and loss he experiences.

Just as the blade reaches its target, Merlin lets out a cry and pushes Davies out of the way. Too late to halt the momentum of his sword, Arthur can only watch, horrified, as Merlin takes the deadly blow himself, body falling to the ground, blood—red as the throne—gushing over Arthur and everything around them.

Arthur jerks awake, breathing hard.

He stares into the darkness of the bedroom, cold sweat pooling on his face, neck, and chest, fingers gripping the sheets.

It takes several long seconds for Arthur to calm down enough to turn his head and look at Merlin’s peacefully sleeping form beside him. No nightmares mar Merlin’s sleep this night.

He is beautiful.

Arthur takes a shaky breath and turns over onto his side, facing Merlin. He stares at Merlin’s face, pale and thankfully clean of blood, memorizing its contours—the sharp cheekbones, strong chin, full lips, ears sticking out a bit too much from his head. Love, strong and powerful, bursts inside of him, and Arthur finds himself having to swallow back tears.

He doesn’t understand anything anymore.

Not where he is. Not who he is. Not even who Merlin is. He’d not fully come to terms with Merlin’s magic when he’d left the world, and now there’s centuries of experience that Arthur doesn’t share in Merlin’s life widening the divide between them.

Arthur is identity-less in a world where identity means everything, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

***

True to his word, Merlin is still angry when morning comes. Arthur drifted to sleep again sometime near sunrise, and he awakens to the smell of coffee brewing.

He finds Merlin dressed for work in a crisp blue and white checked shirt and clean pair of jeans, reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. After giving Arthur’s “Good morning” the cold shoulder, Merlin proceeds to grunt at every other effort Arthur makes at conversation until Arthur gives up and takes his coffee into the bathroom with him while he showers and shaves.

When he comes out again, towel around his waist, he finds Merlin standing in the foyer.

“Are you coming to the shop with me?” Merlin asks him.

“Oh, are you speaking to me now?” Arthur can’t help but ask, even though he should know better.

Merlin frowns and something in the living room rattles threateningly.

“No,” Arthur hastens to answer. He looks away. “Merlin, I need to find something that’s…just mine to do.”

“Okay,” Merlin replies after a moment, and he doesn’t sound angry. Arthur ventures a glance at him.

“I understand, Arthur,” Merlin tells him, blue eyes calm. “Let me know if you need help with it.” He turns toward the door. “Oh,” Merlin looks back  over his shoulder at Arthur, “and we still need to have that talk.”

Arthur nods. “Lunch, then?”

“Lunch,” Merlin agrees, and leaves the flat, door clicking shut behind him.


End file.
